Dream On
by Tidia
Summary: Using The Brotherhood. Dean is 14, Sam is 10 and this is a brief moment before Easter when things go a little wrong. Language warning at some point.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Dream On

By: Tidia

Disclaimer: Ridley is all about The Brotherhood and Kripke is all about Supernatural. I do not profit from either.

Author's Notes: This is the connector fic. Does it have a plot? Maybe-lol. But, it covers some little things I wanted to add. I have to say the postcard challenge is fun and Ridley and I are glad people are participating. All mistakes are my own.

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Part 1

Caleb grabbed his book and pen off the desk. European Art History was his last class before spring break. He couldn't wait to put some room between him and Auburn. He was heading to Pastor Jim's tomorrow to celebrate Easter at the end of the week. Dean and Sam were also going to be on vacation at the same time. Mac would fly down to join them since he was busy with patients. The psychic was looking forward to the visit, and there was also going to be a hunt involved. Jim had mentioned something killing animals in the area and it wasn't a coyote.

He tried to ignore the voice calling his name, wanting to make it to the Jeep to head to his off campus apartment. However, Todd ran after him.

He waited impatiently for his fellow architectural student to catch his breath. Todd was the kind of person who gave architectural students a bad name. Geeky and a total brown noser, Caleb had to show self restraint and not punch him.

"You heading to Cancun for spring break?"

Reaves laughed. Cancun and living the MTV spring break didn't fit into his lifestyle. "No, man, I got some work to do and visiting family." Caleb placed his books in the passenger side seat.

"Work, Jesus, you're an Ames-probably have a job lined up after graduation." Todd whined.

Caleb lost his patience. He purposefully chose a school that didn't have a building splashed with the Ames name. His father may have called the way he lived a 'rock star existence,' but he was discreet. His plans after graduation were his own, not related to his family at all. He got in the Jeep. "Doesn't work that way, Todd. See ya." He started the engine and left Todd and Auburn behind.

He thought he would be able to kick back before packing up and heading out. But when he reached his apartment he noticed the door slightly ajar. He didn't carry a gun on him while he was at school. He did have a knife strapped against his ankle. He slid it from its sheath. There wasn't much to steal except the entertainment center and one of his mother's paintings. Caleb didn't know anyone who could carry a 60 inch projection television, and he would hunt down anyone who touched the painting. His weapons were locked up and well hidden.

He opened his mind and tried to sense if there was someone still inside. He relaxed back, placing the knife back into place. Rachel was inside.

"Hey there," she said with a big smile as he walked in, placing his books and keys on the table by the door.

"Hey," he greeted her in return. "How did you get in?" He went to the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of water, taking a swig before placing it back.

"Landlord." She came up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist.

He could understand why he let her in-toothy white smile, long blonde hair, low cut shirt with plenty of cleavage. "Wanted to see you before you left. I'm gonna miss you." She leaned into him, pressing herself against him.

Caleb could feel the warmth of her body. He turned around. "Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah," she said, and her pupils dilated.

"Show me, girl." He nipped at her lower lip and she responded.

In his bed they lay satiated. Rachel was sleeping with her head in the crook of his arm. He pushed her hair off her face, deciding to read her feelings. She was thinking of him, and he grinned. He had expected nothing less especially after what he had just done. It was the rest of the tumbling thoughts that brought him out of his languishing mood. She loved him; she wanted to marry him and couldn't wait for him to meet her parents at graduation.

Caleb shifted, moving her head off his arm. Like a wolf, it was time to gnaw off his appendage to break free. Abruptly he stood up, shedding the sheets.

Feeling the movement Rachel opened her eyes. "Come back to bed." She yawned.

"No, I gotta go, Babe. I'm expected." He slipped on his jeans, and then picked up her clothes from the floor.

She brought the sheet to her chest as she sat up, watching him scurry about the room. "I thought you were leaving tomorrow?"

"Nope, get dressed." He placed her clothes on the bed, then handed her underwear.

"These aren't mine." She held the offending black thong between her thumb and forefinger, studying them for a moment.

"You sure?" He looked confused, and pointed to the floor. "They were right there on the floor." He bent down and picked up a pair of pink bikini underwear.

"You bastard!" She threw the thong at him. "Caleb Reaves you are a fuckin' bastard!" She snatched her underwear from his hand.

"Rachel, you don't understand. . ." He backed out of his own room, giving her some space to get dressed, which she did under the sheet. He knew it was a low move. He kept the spare underwear for just these occasions. She huffed passed him, pushing him out of the doorway. The door slammed shut, and Rachel was gone.

Three months he had dated her, and not followed his own advice-never date a girl for three months. It led them on and they expected more.

It was late. He probably should have walked Rachel to her car. He went to the window and watched her sulk in the darkness to her car. Once the headlights in her Toyota went on, he got to packing, might as well get an early start.

SNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSN

The first thing Pastor Jim saw in the morning was the cross on the bureau in front of his bed. The second was a photo of his wife, Emma, off to the right.

She had been gone for over twenty years. They had ten years together, more than the doctors had promised. Emma had a heart condition, so they never had children. Jim had cherished his wife. Emma was kind, good woman yet full of conviction-his perfect match. Jim understood John's devotion to Mary even in her death, because he was the same. There would be no other wife for him.

It was time for him to wake up, but it was the sound of someone in the kitchen below which brought him to full alertness. He awoke early to tend to the farm and to God. He opened his nightstand draw which contained his Bible and a .45. He crept down the stairs, well aware of the ones which creaked and avoided them.

He lowered his gun when Caleb called out. "You mind pointing that thing at someone else?"

He relaxed his arm, shaking his head as he saw the young hunter reading a newspaper at his table. "I wasn't expecting you until tomorrow."

Caleb shrugged his shoulders and gestured to the gun. "Is this the kind of welcome you give to your guests?"

"Only the unwelcomed ones, my boy." He placed the gun on the counter, heading over to his coffee maker, noticing Caleb had already helped himself to a cup. "Is there any particular reason you came early?"

Reaves was not about to go into the Rachel situation. He knew the Pastor had a farfetched dream that Caleb should settle down. But, that would never happen for him-the hunt was too important and he didn't want to expose anyone he cared about to the lifestyle. "Yeah. Had to get the hell out of Dodge." It was very early in the morning, and there was still time for Reaves to go into his old room and get some well needed rest. "When are John and the boys coming?"

Jim didn't reply to the question, using the time alone with the young hunter to be more pensive and thoughtful. "Boys are growing up, becoming men."

"Not yet." Caleb picked up his backpack. As far as he knew Dean was still pure, Reaves knew he would be changing that condition sometime soon.

Jim didn't hear the comment. "I worry for you. You all had no choice-Sammy, Dean and you all born into this life." He studied the man before him, his silver ring worn proudly. Jim felt guilty for what he had set into motion and the possible future ramifications. He feared for all of them, including their safety in his prayers.

"I'd choose it again if I had to do it all over." Caleb replied with a nod. He felt this job was his destiny.

Jim shook his head at the naiveté of the psychic. For all he had been through, Caleb still didn't understand. Jim as the current Guardian watched and prepared other hunters and the next leadership of The Brotherhood. It survived in some form or another- sometimes needed more than other times. This was one of those times. Murphy smiled, noticing the backpack Caleb had swung on his shoulder.

"Tell me you brought appropriate clothing for Sunday services." Jim didn't allow Caleb to respond. "Because combat boots, black fatigues and a black t-shirt is not appropriate unless you are planning to lead an infiltration of the church, and last I checked there were no evil forces in there." He noticed Caleb's reaction, and pointed a finger at the college student. "And don't look indignant. Did you not notice no one sat next to you at Christmas?"

"That old guy. . ." Reaves interrupted, trying to recall the Christmas services.

"Mister Simpson is blind, Caleb, and your father doesn't count either."

There were few times when the psychic was at a loss of words. This was one of those times. It had been a calculated attack by the pastor, and Caleb had been bested. "Okay," he agreed.

"Thank you," Jim said with a smile and took another sip from his mug. "Why don't you get some rest? The boys aren't expected until tomorrow."

Reaves knew he was being dismissed. Caleb always wondered about Jim and what power he had as The Guardian. Evidently, one was putting young hunters in their place.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Dream On

By: Tidia

Disclaimer: See part 1

Notes: This part refers to something that was mentioned in one of Ridley's fics (I could look it up, but I am having a lazy day) Enjoy! Thank you for the reviews, I really appreciate when people take their valuable time to review.

Part 2

Saturday morning found the Winchesters on the road. Kentucky was ten hours away, and John wouldn't stop often. Dean sat in the front seat, Sam in the back already asleep. They were going to spend their school vacation with Pastor Jim. The youngest Winchester had been looking forward to it, Dean was wary.

"So is Caleb going to be there?" Dean asked, making conversation even though he already knew the answer.

"As far as I know. He has spring break," John replied, resting one hand on the steering wheel and relaxing his other elbow on the Impala's window. "Figured we would help Jim on a hunt."

Dean nodded. "He's graduating this year." He reminded his father.

"Hmmm…" John's answer was noncommittal.

Dean wondered about Caleb's future, wondered if they would see him more or less. "He gonna hunt full time?"

There was a long pause before John replied. "I don't think Mac will allow it."

Mac was always telling the boys about having a well rounded life. He couldn't imagine Caleb behind the desk with a suit and tie, but he also couldn't imagine him living in one gritty motel after another. "Probably not."

With nothing else to say there was a companionable silence between Dean and John.

The fourteen-year-old fumbled with his walkman before deciding to put the headphones on and listen to one of his tapes. He was nervous about seeing Caleb again, especially after what had happened the last time. . .

His father had taken the last of the codeine. Dean didn't remember where it came from, only that in 4 hours his father would wake in pain. The poltergeist had thrown John around, and he had returned to their motel bleeding and bruised.

Dean had stitched him up, banishing Sam to the television and homework. His father was resting now, and Dean checked on his brother. The ten-year-old was spread out on the pull out sofa, the TV glowing, its sound on low. Dean drew salt circles around his father's bed and the sofa bed. He shut the television off, took the emergency $20 from his sock and placed it in his sweatshirt pocket.

He knew he'd find Testerman and his friends hanging near the motel. Dean had stayed clear of them, not making enemies, yet keeping them as acquaintances.

"Winchester," Bobby Testerman greeted Dean.

Dean gave him a nod. The eighteen-year-old was the go to person in the neighborhood, leader of the other wastrel teens. Dean had stayed clear of them, but made sure they knew he wasn't a push over and that Sam was under his protection. Demand respect and it was given, but now he had to play in their field. "I'm hoping you can help me out."

They were sitting on the back stoop of a nearby apartment building, a few bottles of beer littering the cement steps. "All depends on what you need."

Dean stuffed his hands in the pockets of his sweatshirt, making eye contact. "Painkillers –the prescription stuff."

Bobby jumped down off the stoop. He circled Dean, sizing him up. "How much you got?"

Dean let himself be inspected. He fingered the twenty he had in his sweatshirt. He tried to always have some extra money, using it usually to buy something Sam desired. "Enough."

Testerman nodded, and rubbed his fingers on his lips. "I got some percs."

Percoset were candy to John Winchester. They had escalated past that particular pain killer a few years ago. "Nothing stronger?"

"Vicodin," Bobby countered.

The drug name was music to Dean's ear. He sought out to close the deal. "10 for 10."

Testerman shook his head, and waved off the younger teen to dismiss him. "No way."

"5 for 15." Dean tried again. He had to get those pills and as many as possible.

Bobby started to shake his head, then paused before stating, "8 for 20."

"Deal." Dean nodded, accepting the plastic bag, which materialized from Bobby's unseen pocket.

Dean studied them for a moment, checking to see if they were stamped and were in fact authentic.

"Hey. I'll throw in this too- in case those don't do the trick." Bobby forced two pills into Dean's hand.

The fourteen-year-old stared at the green colored pills marked with 007. He tried returning them. "They're not for me."

Bobby smiled and crossed his arms. "Yeah, well, it's a little E."

"No, I-" Dean looked at the pills with uncertainty. He had to accept them, if only to flush them away back in the room.

"What's going on?" asked the familiar voice from the dark shadows.

"Caleb?" Dean whipped around to see the older hunter. He heard the murmuring of the other teens. "Hey, it's cool. I know him-."

"I don't." Bobby said, his friends gathering around him to protect him.

Caleb placed a hand on Dean's shoulder, taking in the environment and the two pills still in the open palm of the teen's hand. "Deuce, what the hell are you into?"

"None of your business man," Testerman answered unafraid of Caleb.

"Yeah, it is." Reaves stepped forward, getting into the teen's face. "You're some flunky dealer and I have a problem with that." Caleb dug a finger into Bobby's chest, which the teen tried unsuccessfully to remove. "I don't care that your dad is in jail, your mom left you –some of us have bigger problems." The psychic pushed Testerman into his friends with disgust.

The teen leaped forward at Caleb, attacking him. One right hook to the jaw and Bobby was down, his friends giving the hunter and Dean a wide bay. Reaves shook his head. "Go get a freaking job and an education." He turned to Dean. "Why can't people like that be sucked dry by a vampire?"

But Dean had already left, and was twenty feet ahead of him. Caleb jogged over to the teen who was walking with determined steps. "Hey, Dean, wait up."

Dean stopped short. His words were filled with anger. "What are you doing here?"

Caleb was taken back, as again Dean walked away from the hunter. Reaves clamped a hand down on the teen's shoulder. "After what I just witnessed shouldn't that be my question?"

Dean shrugged the grip off. "Dad got hurt. Not all of us have a well stocked med kit."

The damned Winchester pride was evident. "Mac's always willing to help."

"We don't want his help."

It was an expected answer. Caleb knew his father had tried on numerous occasions to help the Winchesters, not only monetarily but with medical supplies. It may have been foolishness or stubbornness, but John was determined to only get basic assistance. "What about the other exchange?" Reaves was not going to let the matter drop. He had been a witness.

"What this?" Dean opened his palm, revealing the two ecstasy pills. "I'm going to flush it down the drain."

This time Caleb stopped, forcing the teen to face him. "Really?"

"Yeah." The teen looked at the pills and then away from Reaves, unable to face him. He had been tempted.

"Didn't think so." Caleb shook his head, trying to decide what he could say to the young man, and find out what was happening that Dean would even consider taking drugs.

Dean jutted his chin in the direction of the motel. "Got to get back, I left Dad and Sammy alone."

"They can wait a minute." Caleb slowed down their walk, removing the urgency. John and Sam were safe for now. "What's going on?'

Dean shrugged his shoulders. "I'm 14, Caleb. I just stitched up my dad, made Sam dinner and made sure he did his homework-I'm just peachy." He said the words with anger and frustration.

Reaves placed a reassuring arm around the teen's shoulders. He was surprised it was accepted. Mac had always been there to comfort Caleb, whether it was desired or not, and the psychic was thankful for it especially after seeing what a lack of comfort did to Dean. "Yeah, I get it-but drugs Deuce?"

They made it to the outside entrance of the motel room, the last room on the second floor situated in the corner. Dean pulled out the key, but waited to enter. "I should be allowed to experiment like every other kid."

"You're not like every other kid, and you don't experiment with that." Caleb hated sounding like an after school special, hated it even more to remind Dean of his responsibilities. "What about Sam?" Reaves swallowed, knowing it was a scare tactic, but he never wanted the teen to be tempted again.

Dean rolled his eyes up, and Caleb felt the boy trying to get control of his emotions. He thrust the pills at Caleb. "Yeah, I know, I know-here-take it-I don't want it." Divested of the ecstasy, Dean opened the door. "Home sweet home."

Caleb looked at Sam, laid out sleeping on stained sheets. The room looked rundown and dilapidated. The sink's faucet was dripping in the kitchenette.

Dean left the psychic standing in the room, and checked on his father. When he returned he noticed Caleb staring at the kitchen. "I can make you something if you're hungry."

"No, I'm good." Reaves shook his head. Dean had a vast expertise in canned and boxed food. But the sight of the room hindered Caleb's appetite.

The teen went to the window, looked out and then made sure the shade was pulled all the way down.

"Deuce, I don't think that kid's following you."

"Not today at least. . ." Dean slumped down in the hard wood chair.

"Shit." Caleb shook his head. The Winchester brothers lived in the neighborhood. There would be eventual retribution.

Dean looked at sleeping Sam. He would have to be extra vigilante about protecting the youngster. "You should have stayed out of it."

"Can't do that. What kind of friend would I be?" Caleb quickly brewed a lie he could make work. "I have a friend in real estate owes me a favor. He'll find you a better place."

And three months later the Winchesters were pulling into Pastor Jim's driveway. Dean stood, stretching before going to the trunk to get their bags. Reaves sauntered out with Atticus and Scout following in his wake.

"Jim's on a tear about Sunday best clothes," he said in the way of greeting.

John gave an amused snort. "So I guess you're not infiltrating the church this year?"

"Don't you have better things to talk about?" Caleb retorted. He couldn't believe The Triad spoke about Reaves's fashion sense instead of more important Brotherhood matters.

It hadn't missed Caleb's attention that Dean had yet to say anything to the psychic. Reaves went to help him. Sam had already been overwhelmed by the canine greeting party. "How's the new place?" Caleb had found them a furnished place in the same school district within 2 days. He gave first, last and security and swore the landlord to secrecy. John had accepted, though Reaves believed it was because of the fact he was on pain medication at the time.

"Good, Sammy really likes it." Dean still didn't look at the other hunter, concentrating on the three duffle bags.

"Any trouble?"

"Nope." The teen grabbed all three bags, shifting one to his shoulder.

Caleb grabbed two of the bags. "Is this your father's bag?" He held one canvas bag up.

"Yeah." Dean frowned. "Why?"

"You have much to learn young Jedi." Caleb grinned; knowing the quickest way to put the teen at ease was to plot a prank at another person's expense.

Dean smiled in return. Things were back to normal.


	3. Chapter 3

Dream On

By: Tidia

Disclaimer: See Part 1

Author's Notes: Thank you for all the kind reviews. I am a little unfoccussed today, as Mogs says- a fluffy white dog walking by would have my concentration. But, I am hitting the important things-- post fic. Here you go and enjoy.

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Part 3

"Are you going to tell me where you put my clothes?" John said as he came down for breakfast on Monday morning wearing a green t-shirt and camouflage pants.

"You've got clothes, Johnny," Reaves said over the rim of the cup of coffee that didn't hide his amusement. Dean and Sam looked down, engrossed in their cereal bowls.

"Army fatigues are not clothes, Caleb." John growled, staring down the other hunter.

"You did stand out in church." Reaves snickered. "With the church looking like a jungle with those palms. . .I think the congregation thought you were Rambo." Yesterday had been Palm Sunday and the church gave each parishioner a green palm in remembrance of the day.

Dean and Sam started to laugh, unable to hide the hilarity of the situation. Tears streamed down their faces, but they knew better than to look at their father. John Winchester was not to be joked with, especially at his expense, by his sons.

John rolled his eyes at the threesome. "Don't think I don't know that you were involved in this, Ace." John threatened.

Dean momentarily brought his laughter under control. He had been on the brunt end of too many punishments to want to get on his father's bad side. A few more chuckles escaped like a cough.

They were all saved from John's threats by Jim, who came up the stairs with a hamper of clothes. "Look what I found in the dryer."

John looked relieved, and took the laundry basket. "Thanks, Jim."

The minister winked at Dean, whose mouth dropped open in shock. He hadn't realized Caleb had involved the pastor too.

He gestured for the keys to Caleb's Jeep. It was the easiest vehicle to get out. Reaves found the keys on the kitchen counter and tossed them to the pastor. "I have the shut-ins and the infirmed to visit," Jim explained. "Then your father to pick up later."

"We're going to check out that site." Caleb and John had reviewed their plans. Jim had found possible evidence of a supernatural event in the next town over, but was unsure, unable to see a pattern. There were animals disappearing, some gone missing and some being found mutilated.

"I left the research out for you. You may also want to go to the local library." The pastor suggested.

"That was part of our plan." John stated as he came down the stairs dressed in jeans and a button down canvas shirt.

"Good, good, well, I will see you later." Jim left, wearing priestly black and his white collar.

Dean brought his and Sam's cereal bowls to the sink to wash them. "Dad, do you mind if I stay around here? You promised Jim that you would tune up the old Chevy. . ." The 1961 Chevy Half Ton Diesel Pickup was used to do the farm work. "Since Jim took Caleb's Jeep. . ."

"I did, didn't I?" He gave a nod to his eldest son. The hunters were only planning to do some scouting and research. "Okay, fine."

"Can I stay here with Dean?" Sam chimed in; the ten-year-old looked eagerly at his brother.

Caleb interrupted. He knew John would have Sam stay with Dean, but the blond Winchester always had responsibility for his brother. A break, every once in awhile, was healthy. "Hell no, I need my research assistant." Reaves roughed up the boy's already messy hair.

"Dewey Decimal system still have you confused, Damien?" Dean snickered as he put the washed cereal bowls in the kitchen drainer to dry.

"I'm gonna be bored. . ." Sam whined, looking between his brother and Caleb.

Reaves knew Dean would give in, but the hunter was able to trump the youngster. "I'll pay you."

"How much?" Sam's whining voice was gone.

"McDonald's Happy Meal." The psychic raised his eyebrows.

The youngest Winchester seemed to ponder the offer then countered. "If you get one too then I'll get two prizes."

"Deal." Caleb put out his hand for Sam to shake.

John had remained silent during the transaction, helping himself to a cup of coffee. "Pushover," he commented.

"Sometimes negotiations are needed rather than orders, Johnny." Reaves smirked.

The two hunters reviewed Jim's notes, while the youngsters handled the chores around the farm. By eleven, the hunters and Sam were gone, first to McDonalds and then to investigate.

Dean walked over to the barn, opening the doors so he could pull in the Chevy. He had already locked Atticus and Scout inside the house. He loved the dogs, but last time they had done work in the 'Pit', the dogs had tracked oil into the house which Dean had to clean.

'The Pit' was actually a root cellar in the barn. John Winchester discovered it one day when trying to fix the Impala. Pastor Jim stored his homemade brew and the consecrated wine for the church in there. John was able to set up the car on blocks, over the open root cellar and then stand underneath. It was comfortable and kept him out of the blazing sun in the summer.

Dean drove the truck onto the blocks he had set up. He had learned to drive a year ago in case of emergency. He removed all four tires, setting them to seal them and let them dry in the spring sun.

He turned on the radio he had found in the storage shed and found a classic rock station. With a grin on his face as the Eagles sang Hotel California he slid under the truck and stood in the root cellar.

The undercarriage of the diesel truck was well known to Dean. John had his oldest son tinkering by his side for a long time. Jim had complained about the muffler, so Dean began with the exhaust system. He loosened the brackets, trying to solve the mystery. Vehicles were easy. Certain sounds meant different things-catalytic converter, carburetor or starter, each sang their own song.

He hummed along with Lynard Skynard, not hearing the cracking noise from one of the blocks behind him. The first loud groan was quickly accompanied by the back tire rim collapsing down, forcing the other tire rims off their blocks. The axle had broken causing the chain reaction.

Dean scooted to the side to get out, but a second was not long enough. The drive shaft struck him, causing him to fall back into the pit. The truck covered the root cellar, leaving its occupant in darkness.

snsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnssnnssnnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsn

Sam brought the Happy Meal toys with him to the library. It kept him occupied for all of ten minutes before he wanted to leave Caleb's side. John had gone to interview some of the farmers and people who had lost animals. Winchester dropped Reaves and his son off at the library to do research and would pick them up later in the afternoon.

"Come on Sammy, help me with the microfiche." Caleb slid his chair over, and pulled the chair that the boy was sitting in towards him.

The boy kneeled in his chair and took over the operation of the machine, flipping through adeptly.

"Thanks," Reaves said, tousling Sam's hair when the boy stopped at an important article. "See this is fun."

The boy rolled his eyes and gave a, "hmphr."

Caleb didn't know if he was going to make it through the afternoon with the bored ten-year-old. Reaves winked at the research librarian so she would help him later. He then gestured for Sam to stand up, and they went over to the fiction section. "Hey, I know a book you would like."

Sam stared at the book. "The Three Musketeers?"

"Great book." He escorted the boy back to their table. "I was like 13 when I read it." Caleb fondly recalled the book getting him through a rough time. "Trust me, kid, you'll like it."

Sam shrugged his shoulders, and opened the book as Caleb continued to go through the microfiche.

TBC

* * *

Don't forget about the **Postcard Challenge**. Tell Dawn and Eric they have fans all over the world! I was given a better address for Dawn.

Dawn Ostroff  
President of Entertainment, The CW Television Network  
4000 Warner Boulevard, Bldg 168  
Burbank, CA 91522-0002

And Kripke's addy:  
(remember US residents will need an airmail stamp or two 39 cents stamps)

Supernatural Films Inc  
8085 Glenwood Dr.  
Burnaby BC  
V3N 5C8  
Canada


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: See part 1 :)

Author's notes: Really, I am surprised at this fluffy story. I am glad you are enjoying it. Thank you for the kind reviews, they are much appreciated.

Part 4

Sam rolled on to his brother, fussing and unable to sleep. It was a late, hot summer in Georgia. The air conditioning in the apartment worked only intermittently. Dean glanced at the alarm clock, three in the morning. He would have to get up for school in three hours. First he would need to drop Sam off with Mrs. Collins and then the seven- year-old would head to his second grade class.

He felt the stifling heat too. Normally, he would rub Sam's back but any contact in the heat would make things worse. He began to hum to distract his brother and lull him.

The next morning, Dean was tired. He yawned his way through school, then picked up his brother and took him home. John would be back from work by dinner time. He played with Sam, all the while hoping the heat would break, the air conditioner would get fixed or he could distract his brother.

It was then he thought of a solution. Getting the silver duct tape from under the sink he began to cut out stars. After an hour there was an indentation in his right hand, but he had cut out about thirty stars. There would have been more but 5 were sacrificed to Sam to play with so Dean could finish the rest.

He went into the small room that they shared, grabbed the broom, stood on the bed and stuck the silver stars on the ceiling.

At night as they lay in bed Dean weaved his tale, shining a flashlight on the twinkling stars. "See, Sammy, we can pretend we're outside. Maybe like we're camping. . ."

"I like to pretend I can fly in space like Buzz Lightyear." Sam patted his shirt. "I wear a white shirt like he does. But, I need wings. . . Think I can fly with no wings?"

"Go to sleep, we'll work on wings tomorrow." Dean yawned, and fell asleep as his brother did the same, under the stars.

Dean woke up with a start then groaned back. He blinked, feeling wetness drip into his eyes. He examined further, but screamed. Any slight movement of his right arm caused burning pain to envelope him. Dean took in some shallow breaths, trying to dull the pain and calm himself.

After awhile he used his left hand to remove the wetness from his face, feeling it was a mixture of grease and blood. He turned his head and examined his right arm. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness he could see the bone was broken, but it looked like it hadn't gone through the skin.

"Great, just great."

He looked up, and found that was a mistake. He was trapped. The truck covered the opening to the root cellar, dripping a mixture of water and oil on him in a steady stream.

"Okay, Dean, stay calm."

Using his left arm he pulled himself to a sitting position, gasping as pain lanced through his midsection. He doubled over and shut his eyes tight, tears streaming down his face. "Ribs busted," he said with a groan, having experienced the pain before.

He leaned himself against one the crates, trying to get comfortable, feeling the cold earth seeping though his jeans. "Hello! Help!" he yelled out. But, he knew no one was there. John, Sammy and Caleb had gone into town and Jim had gone to help his parishioners.

"Where's MacGyver when you need him?"

A paper clip and some string were not going to get him out of this predicament. He looked around, noticing the bottles and some crates. There were some gallon water containers in the corner, but Dean didn't have anymore energy to drag his body over there. His body was protesting any further movement.

"This sucks!"

He could still hear the classic rock station, muffled as if it were at a great distance. He shivered. He didn't know how long he was out. He looked to his watch, seeing the digital numbers glowing in the darkness. It was one o'clock. He hoped someone would be back soon. He rested his head against the crate, knowing it was a mistake to close his eyes, but it would provide release from the throbbing pain wracking his entire body.

The top of the crate had been splintered open, probably by the impact of his body against it. Dean could see the bottles inside. With his left hand he fished inside pulling out one. A few thumps against the crate and the top was off, Dean took a swallow.

Over the years, Dean had been allowed to have sips of beer, usually from his father, Caleb or Bobby. During the last year he had been allowed to nurse a bottle, but it hadn't been a big deal-drinking was commonplace amongst the hunters.

Four bottles later and some wine, he was singing a song, feeling the throbbing diminishing in a haze.

Every time I look in the mirror  
All these lines on my face getting clearer  
The past is gone  
It goes by, like dusk to dawn  
Isn't that the way  
Everybody's got their dues in life to pay

Yeah, I know nobody knows  
where it comes and where it goes  
I know it's everybody's sin  
You got to lose to know how to win

Half my life  
is in books' written pages  
Lived and learned from fools and  
from sages  
You know it's true  
All the things come back to you

Sing with me, sing for the year  
Sing for the laughter, sing for the tears  
Sing with me, if it's just for today  
Maybe tomorrow, the good lord will take you away

Yeah, sing with me, sing for the year  
sing for the laughter, sing for the tear  
sing with me, if it's just for today  
Maybe tomorrow, the good Lord will take you away

Dream On Dream On Dream On  
Dream until your dreams come true  
Dream On Dream On Dream On  
Dream until your dream comes through  
Dream On Dream On Dream On  
Dream On Dream On  
Dream On Dream On

Sing with me, sing for the year  
sing for the laughter, sing for the tear  
sing with me, if it's just for today  
Maybe tomorrow, the good Lord will take you away  
Sing with me, sing for the year  
sing for the laughter, sing for the tear  
Sing with me, if it's just for today  
Maybe tomorrow, the good Lord will take you away...

He sighed. He was tired, cold and damp. Another shiver ran through him sending tremors down his right, injured arm. Sleep was beckoning. He wanted to give in, but he remembered people with a concussion shouldn't sleep. Dean knew he wasn't going to die in the root cellar. Someone would find him and then he would be fixed up as good as new. He hoped.

But, he had time to think, and that was dangerous. Dean never wanted to be alone and in his head too long. He thought about baseball for a few moments.

"And Winchester is at bat. Smack! It's back, back, it's out of the park! The Red Sox win!"

He loved spending time with a glove in his hand at the ready to catch. He enjoyed the outdoors and camaraderie of being on a team, playing for the love of the game not because of some heavy responsibility. He looked at his arm hoping he would still be able to play. It didn't look too good for this season.

In the fall he had to sit out two weeks because of a ball making contact with his head. It had been warm October day with Dean playing first base and Caleb and Sam in the stands. John was working, and unpaid time off was a luxury. Usually he had to force his brother to come to the games, and then Sam did his homework in the stands, not paying attention to the action on the field. But Caleb had surprised the Winchesters with a visit.

Dean wanted to impress the older hunter. He was attentive at first base, glove in hand ready to catch and get an out. The batter had fouled towards third base twice. The next pitch he swung and missed. It was the second strike. Dean had confidence in the pitcher. So he was shocked when the batter connected to the ball and sent the ball towards Dean.

Dean didn't know what happened next. He charged forward, jumping in the air, and getting his feet clipped from under him from the batter while the ball thwacked against his head, sending him sprawling to the ground.

Dean closed his eyes, unable to catch his breath as the force of the landing caused the wind to be knocked out of him. He blacked out, finding it easier to succumb to a moment of unconsciousness than the cacophony of sound around him.

He heard from his teammates that Caleb bolted to his side, Sam right behind. Blood was everywhere and Caleb was using his jacket to stem the flow. Within the six minutes it took the ambulance to get to the park, Dean was awake, hearing Sam crying.

"Hey," Dean said softly to get his brother's attention.

"Stay awake, Deuce." Caleb ordered him.

"Dean, you okay?" Sam got close to his brother's face, enough so a tear fell on Dean's cheek.

Dean hadn't opened his eyes; his head ached and was stinging.

"Don't be such a pansy ass, Deuce. Open. Your. Eyes." Caleb squeezed the teen's arm.

Dean frowned. He could hear the worry in Reaves's voice. He obliged and opened his eyes to see the paramedics hovering. "Pansy ass?"

The psychic grinned, evidently getting a proper response. Caleb and Sam piled into the ambulance with teenager, and talked to him the whole trip to the hospital. The mild concussion and stitches required a twenty-four hour stint in the hospital, which John had been none to pleased. Dean had not been thrilled about missing the last two weeks of baseball season and the floating threat John would not allow him to play the team sport.

But, spring came around and Dean was back in the rotation. He knew baseball wouldn't be his career, but to have the dream truncated earlier than expected would have been heartbreaking for him. He wanted to harbor the dream as long as possible.

He had other dreams too.

He dreamed about girls. Those were very good dreams.

Sometimes he dreamed about his mom, but as time went on they were less and less. He wouldn't call them dreams, and he wouldn't name them nightmares either. He woke up feeling sad. Melancholy feelings of loss took time to shake.

He banged his left hand against the crate. He found another bottle and took a drink. He burped loudly, and laughed. At least he had time to learn how to burp the alphabet. It was a talent he admired. But once he got to the letter 'c' he noticed his ribs protested. Dean let his head drop back as another shiver wracked his body. He closed his eyes. At least when he opened them again, maybe he would be in a nice warm bed or in the least have a good dream.

Twilight dwindled at Jim's home as the Impala pulled in. Sam raced out of the car and charged into the house ahead of the two hunters.

Caleb got out of the passenger seat, balancing two brown grocery bags.

John snickered. "Grocery shopping and long hair?" The older hunter tugged the younger hunter's ponytail. "You becoming domestic on me Reaves?"

Caleb raised one eyebrow, and shook his head. "You may want to refrain from insults on my manhood. Cause I literally am saving your ass."

John snorted in disbelief.

"Mrs. Olsen's tuna surprise is defrosting in the refrigerator." Reaves stated, clutching the steak filled bags close. Earlier in the morning while getting some juice, he had seen the silver wrapped package clearly marked. He wanted to throw it away, but knew Jim would be upset at wasting food.

John uttered an epithet, which Caleb didn't hear. "That woman tried to kill us last time."

"I know." Reaves distinctly remembered when Mrs. Olsen had been thoughtful enough to send food to the pastor. She had almost single handedly wiped out The Triad, plus the next generation of hunters. "Jim said we couldn't use her as werewolf bait."

"Because she'd be missed." John mimicked the words Jim had used. "Who would miss that cooking?" he asked Caleb as they entered the house.

Sam greeted them in the kitchen. "Dean's not here."

"Probably went with Pastor Jim to pick up Mac at the airport, Kiddo." John explained, noticing the barn was closed, and Caleb's Jeep was not in the driveway.

Caleb removed the plastic wrap from the steak packages. There was a grill out back. Reaves wasn't a good cook, not even passable, but he could handle meat on the grill.

Sam wrinkled his nose at the raw steaks. "Red meat contributes to heart disease."

Caleb snorted. He didn't know if Sam read too much, or watched too much television, but the child knew some odd facts. "Thanks, Sammy," he said, gesturing for the boy to follow him outside. "You can have the tuna surprise if you want. Mrs. Olsen made it."

Sam jogged to catch up to Caleb's wide gait. "I'm only 10. I don't want to die."

"I thought so," Reaves replied as he primed the gas grill. He gave Sam the steaks to hold as he tossed a match inside the grill and watched it catch a yellow glow. The boy was staring at the meat. Dean did most of the cooking and grocery shopping. Steak probably wasn't in the Winchester budget. "It's just like a hamburger only better."

Sam shrugged his shoulders. "Can I put cheese on it?"

"Sure, why not?" Caleb answered. Cheese made everything taste better.

The steaks were ready and Sam had set the table. As they were about to sit down the headlights of the Jeep shined through the kitchen window. The trio decided to wait until the other hunters joined them.

Jim entered and looked at the table perplexed. "I already defrosted tuna surprise. . ."

The hunters ignored the comment, as Mackland Ames entered. He hugged his son.

"Hey, Dad." Caleb returned the hug. He hadn't seen his father since the holiday break.

Ames reached out a hand to John. "I can see they gave you your clothes back."

John accepted the grasp and chuckled. "Ohh, I am already thinking of extra training sessions. . ."

"Daadd." Caleb cocked his head. He really hated being junior hunter amidst the senior ones.

Mac shrugged his shoulders. "For every action there is a reaction. Isn't that right, Samuel?" He tousled the boy's hair.

Sam pushed the fallen hair out of his eyes. "I tried to tell them."

Reaves mimicked being stabbed in the heart. The youngest one had abandoned him, and fed him to the wolves. "You wanted in on it, Runt."

Ames placed an arm around his son's shoulder. "Caleb, Sam's ten years old," Mackland admonished.

The boy made sure no one was looking and then stuck out his tongue at the hunter.

For a moment he felt like Sawyer being outwitted by the youngest Winchester. He shook off the feeling. Caleb hadn't sunk to that level. However, the next time the kid wanted a drawing of a mythical creature, Reaves would make him beg for it. He decided to talk business to get the attention away from him. "Well, Jim, looks like you got yourself a friendly, neighborhood satanic cult."

John pulled some beers out of the refrigerator. "Junior and I are going to find out who the leader is and have a chat."

"Maybe you'll see your church membership go up—everlasting salvation, everlasting damnation—really all the same isn't?" Caleb took a few of the beers out of the other hunter's hand and placed them on the table.

Pastor Jim cleared his throat. "I might throw in some training myself, John."

Mac's chuckling at his son's expense was interrupted by Sam who was looking at the kitchen door.

"Where's Dean?"


	5. Chapter 5

Title: Dream On

By: Tidia

Disclaimer: See part 1, because I made an effort.

Author's note: So, I am going on vacation. Ridley, Wills, Les and Mog too. I have a case of the giggles because I am so tired. (Right now I am laughing because Ridley and I joked about writing a drunken fic...friends dont let friends drink and post) Before I forget--a reader was kind enough to tell me that someone has a postcard challenge on their livejournal. Ridley and I are not connected to it. I am thrilled about all the the readers who sent cards--AWESOME! Evidently, the production office received enough to use as decorations on their walls. Enjoy the fic! I will try to post the last part while on vacation.

Part 5

Pastor Jim smiled at the youngest Winchester. "Are you playing a game?"

Caleb could feel the nervousness emanating from Sam. Reaves looked at John. "No, they aren't. Deuce isn't with you?"

"Not with me." Jim replied, his face frowning in worry. "I went from visiting the parishioners to pick up Mac."

"I can see that." John put down the beer, and looked out the kitchen window. "I assumed he was going with you. . ."

Caleb filled in his father and the pastor. "He stayed behind to work on the Chevy."

"I swear I will kill him if he's off with Hensen's girl." John growled, finding a plausible explanation. For three years Dean had been trying to impress one of the farmer's daughters.

Jim picked up the phone and dialed the number from memory. "I'll call Tobias and see if he's seen Dean." Patiently, the pastor went through the pleasantries. He shook his head at the gathering of hunters. "Hasn't seen the boy."

"We should probably check the property. . ." Caleb went to one of the kitchen draws, the steaks forgotten, and pulled out a few flashlights. "I'd get a vision if he was in trouble-Right, Dad?"

"Let's calm down." Ames felt he needed to be the voice of reason. The youngest Winchester was chewing on the side of his thumb in nervousness. "Do we have something that belongs to Dean?"

"His jacket!" Sam ran upstairs and brought the garment to the doctor.

Mackland sat down at the kitchen table, placing the jacket in his lap. He concentrated on the jacket and on Dean. He grimaced when his vision revealed Dean's location. "He's in the barn. We need to hurry."

Caleb made it to the barn first with Sam on his heels. He pulled the door open, not comprehending the scene before him. The 1961 Chevy truck was tilted at an awkward angle over the pit.

"Dean!" Sam yelled, running past Caleb, figuring out that his brother was trapped beneath in the pit.

"Oh dear Lord," Jim uttered.

"Dean, can you hear me?" John yelled out, coming to stand next to Sam. "We need to move this."

"I'm calling 911. We're going to need an ambulance." Mackland ran back to the house after confirming his vision was correct. He knew Dean was unconscious and needed medical attention.

"John, we need some planks. If we don't do this right-it'll fall in." Caleb said as he circled the truck, utilizing his architecture skills.

The men moved fast, gathering what they needed. Mackland returned, and kneeled down next to Sam who had been calling his brother's name over and over again, waiting for a reply. "Is Dean going to be okay?"

Ames hated to make promises, but Sam needed assurances. "You know your brother. This won't keep him down." Mackland knew Dean would always fight to be there for his younger brother.

Caleb, John and Jim returned with wood planks. Caleb directed the hunters on their placement, then backed the Impala into the barn. The black car had a V-8 engine while the Jeep was only a six cylinder. They needed the extra engine power to pull the truck out.

John looped a chain around the bumper of the Impala and then attached the other end to the truck's front fender. "Sammy, I'm gonna need you to drive car."

The youngest Winchester nodded. John escorted him to the car. "Press on the gas nice and gentle. We're going to be pulling so that the fender doesn't fall off."

Sam slid into the adjusted driver's seat. John started the engine. "Ready?"

"Ready," the boy replied.

"Wait until I tell you." John got into his position with Caleb behind the Impala. Mac and Jim were near the truck ready to push.

"Go!" John yelled out to his son who tentatively applied pressure on the pedal.

The wood planks creaked and the truck groaned. Finally, with the hunters help, the truck moved forward and cleared the pit. Sam placed the car in park and shut it off, running to join the other men.

Mackland jumped down into the pit as did John. Dean was lifeless in the corner. The root cellar gave off an odor of beer, wine and oil. It was not a pleasant mix. The lights in the barn cast an eerie glow to the pit, making the teenager look as if he was some grotesque extra in a horror movie.

"I'm going to make sure the ambulance finds us." Pastor Jim interrupted the tense silence. "Sam, come along."

The boy stood next to Caleb. His eyes fixated on his brother. "I want to stay here."

"Sammy, let Mac work and help Jim." Reaves pushed the boy towards the minister. When Sam and Jim were out of the barn, Caleb crouched down. "Dad?"

"We need a backboard down here." Mackland replied. It was tempting to move the teen, who was sitting against some crates unconscious. Ames had to be wary because of a possible back injury. "He's breathing. Probable concussion, broken arm. . ." He gently probed Dean's arm. "He's too cold, maybe hypothermia. And he may have drunk quite a bit."

"Are they here yet?" John yelled, remained close to his son, but gave Mac room to work.

The answer came from Sam who ran in. "They're here!"

The two EMTs followed Jim into the barn. They jumped in the root cellar, and John came up, giving the medical professionals more room. Carefully, Dean was strapped to a blue backboard and a collar placed around his neck.

"We're going to need some help in lifting him out." One of the emergency workers stated. He had four sets of hand at the ready. "Okay on three."

Dean was lifted up into the lighted barn. Unmoving, even when an IV line was started. Sam knelt by his brother's side. "Please, Dean, please."

Caleb rested a hand on Sam's shoulder.

"Call the clinic and tell them we need an orthopedist." Ames ordered as he checked over the patient, covered him with the blanket and kept up with the gurney. "I'll be going with you."

The other hunters ran behind them.

One of the EMTs shook his head as they reached the ambulance. "Sir, there's no room. . ."

"I'm Doctor Mackland Ames."

Caleb mimicked his father. The name sounded impressive.

"Right, okay." The EMT shrugged at his co-worker and allowed the tall doctor access.

"We'll meet you at the clinic." John said as he closed the ambulance door.

"I'm driving." Jim announced as they rushed to the Impala.

"Jim, no offense, but the speed limit is only a suggestion." Caleb stated, going towards the driver's side.

John gestured to the backseat. They piled into the Impala, John taking the driver's seat and following closely in the ambulance's wake.

The local clinic was small, but the closest trauma hospital was two hours away. Mac banned the hunters from entering the triage room, and told them to be patient.

Inside he concentrated on Dean and directing the doctor on duty. Dean's clothes were cut away and x-rays taken. As the x-ray of his chest was taken, the teen moaned.

"Dean, Dean, you're in a clinic. I need you to wake up." Mackland lightly tapped Dean's face to bring him around.

The teen complied, blinking slowly. "Mac?" He asked. He looked around wildly; the heart monitor recorded an increase in Dean's heart rate.

"It's okay, Dean. . ." Ames tried to soothe the teen, wishing he hadn't banished John to the waiting room.

"I'm gonna be sick." Dean tried to lift his head. His stomach was churning.

"Turn him," Ames ordered, making sure the vomit was away from him. He had paid his dues as an intern a long time ago.

"Oh God." Dean groaned as he spewed the liquid contents of his stomach. The teen closed his eyes. The liquid burned his throat and mouth. He would never drink again.

Mac knew his patient had a concussion and it was difficult to bear the dizziness and nausea. The fact Dean had also drank quite a bit didn't help the situation. He gestured to the clinic personnel to give the patient some space. He knew the teen got overwhelmed when crowded. "Dean, stay with me. What hurts?"

Dean opened his eyes again, blinking slowly. "Ribs, back, arm, head…I don't know everything."

Mackland did a quick test of the teen's reflexes. "Can you feel this?"

"Yeah." Dean swallowed.

"Good boy. You're doing great." He gestured for a nurse to come closer. "We're going to clean you up, and get you fixed up as good as new."

The other doctor had started a hydrating IV, putting in antibiotics and a mild pain reliever. With the concussion and alcohol consumption the doctors had to be careful.

"This is Doctor Michaels. He's going to fix your arm, and I'm going to stitch up that hard head of yours." Mackland introduced the other man, as the nurse carefully cleaned the arm of oil and debris.

"Dean, it's a clean break, and I'm going to set it, but it is going to hurt." The bone had to be manipulated into place, and the flesh was already swollen.

The teen nodded. Mackland grabbed his left hand, and gave it a light squeeze to give permission to the boy to take the pain out on Ames's hand. Dean squeezed his eyes shut, and tears rolled down as the doctor set the arm. He tried to roll away from the pain, but Mac kept him still. "He's all done, he's all done." Mackland repeated to the teen, trying to help him ride through the pain.

He gave time for Dean to settle down once more before he started working on the scalp lacerations. "Not to bad at all. No stitches needed."

"That's good. I really don't want a matching set."

Mackland saw the faint scar of the baseball injury. In another year there would be no mark left. The nurse helped clean some of the blood away and then Ames sealed the wound and wrapped a bandage around it.

"Caleb's going to have a field day." The teen commented, feeling the bulky bandage winding around his head.

Mac chuckled, knowing his son too. "I'll threaten to take his trust fund away if he teases you."

And within fifteen minutes it was a one-sided conversation. Dean succumbed to the trauma of the injuries, his exhaustion and the mild sedative. "Let's bind his ribs, and then take a look at that back."

* * *

A/N: Thanks to Boleyn. (I added the little odor reference for you) Thank you to all the readers and reviewers... 


	6. Chapter 6

Title: Dream On

By: Tidia

Disclaimer: See part 1

Author's Notes: So, I am on vacation and here is Ridley.

Hey everyone! I'm missing writing so much I had to take over Tidia's story. Don't worry, despite all the fun we've been having, we've talked nothing but stories and SN. Tidia again—this is the end. I think you will be seeing A Noble Obligation soon….

Part 6

The hunters and Sam gathered in the small triage room. The clinic had allowed them all to move in. Mackland wanted to keep an eye on his patient and if everything went well then they would take Dean home later on in the morning. Ames could watch over the teen at Pastor Jim's house.

Caleb began to chuckle. The others looked at him, and he decided to share the amusing thought. "You know, Jim, between Johnny's camo look at church last Sunday and Dean sporting some impressive bruises, there's going to be talk."

Mackland gave his son a stern look.

Reaves jutted his chin out towards the teen who lay in bed, a white bandage wrapped around his head and his arm heavily casted. It was pitiful site. "Maybe they'll start a fund for Dean. . .Hey, the kid will love it."

"Don't give him any ideas." John growled.

Sam sat next to Caleb, dozing against the young psychic. The boy shifted and woke up with a yawn. "Did Dean wake up yet?"

Absentmindedly Reaves hugged Sam closer. "Not yet, I promised you I would tell you."

Dean sighed. He must have known his brother was losing patience.

The teen's mouth felt dry and as if he had chewed a baseball. His right arm was uncomfortable and he tried to move it, but was unable to. He opened his eyes to find his arm in a cast.

"Doctor Michaels did it while you were asleep." Mackland Ames's face loomed above him, moving immediately to his side as soon as he saw his patient move.

Dean didn't answer instead deciding nodding his head was a better idea. A straw came into view and he took a sip of the cool water. He closed his eyes again.

"How do you feel?" John asked, not touching his son. Mackland noticed the man was not demonstrative with his children. It was interesting to see Dean and Sam interact. Dean was affectionate with his brother.

"I feel like a truck hit me."

"More like dropped on you." He heard the familiar voice of Caleb Reaves

He opened his eyes to see his father, Caleb, Sam and Pastor Jim all hovered nearby.

"So, Deuce, what do you think of Pastor Jim's brew?" Caleb smirked.

Dean frowned, then recalled how he had passed the time by drinking some beer and wine from the root cellar. "I don't think I want to drink for awhile." He had some more sips of water. "I think something died in my mouth."

"Looks like you got another teetotaler, Dad." Caleb commented. His father never drank to the level of the hunters, and gave the boys numerous speeches about drinking in moderation.

Dean tried to shift up in order to be more comfortable against the pillows, but his back protested. He gave up, then looked at Jim. The Chevy was a mess as well as the root cellar. "Are you mad at me?"

Jim was taken aback. He placed a hand on Dean's foot and gave it a squeeze. "No, of course not, my boy. I wish I had known that old truck was in such a sorry state, I would have never let you work under it. I'm sorry."

"I can fix it-" Dean started.

"Tell you what, Kiddo, when you're feeling better we'll do it together." His father said, bringing a grin to the teen's face.

Sam wormed his way closer so his brother could see him. "Hey, Sammy. How was the research?"

"Caleb made these funny eyes at the librarian and she helped him. I read the Three Musketeers." Sam reviewed his day with his older brother. "I can check it out of the library for you."

"Okay." Dean closed his eyes again, trying to bring the headache to a dull roar. "Can I go home soon?"

"You have a concussion, Dean," Mac explained. "Broken arm, two broken ribs, laceration in the scalp and some contusions on your back."

"Guess no baseball for awhile." Dean was disappointed. He would miss the spring season.

"You know when a bone breaks it heals stronger." The doctor informed him.

"Caleb, why don't you take Sam and Jim back to the house?" John pulled Sam up, and carried the ten-year-old. He noticed Dean was tiring out.

Mackland nodded in agreement. "If everything goes well then we'll bring Dean home in the afternoon."

"Okay, but don't forgot about him." Sam rubbed his eyes.

Caleb shot a look at his father.

"Forget about me?" Dean opened his eyes and frowned.

"Dad, Caleb, Mac and Pastor Jim- all forgot about you Dean. I didn't forget." The boy said matter-of-factly.

Hurt flashed in the teen's green eyes. Pastor Jim, Mackland and Caleb all shared guilty looks. John was oblivious.

"Thanks, Sammy, you did great." He praised his brother.

Caleb put a hand on Dean's forehead over the white bandage. He tried to lighten the mood. "We sacrificed a steak dinner for you, Dude."

Dean nodded, his eyes blinking, wanting to close to sleep. "I saw the tuna casserole."

"Mrs. Olsen is being thoughtful, boys." Pastor Jim interrupted. "You will tell her the casserole was delicious."

"You want us to lie, Pastor Jim?" Sam wiggled in his father's grasp.

Caleb and John tried to hide their smirks, unsuccessfully. It wasn't often Jim found himself speechless.

"No, I, come along Samuel." Jim stated. "I will see you tomorrow, my boy." He gave Dean's foot another pat before leading the way out.

"I'll be right back." John said to Dean as he escorted the others out.

Caleb took a few more moments. "Becca Hensen is so going to dig the injuries, Deuce."

Dean snorted then coughed, which resulted in a grimace as his ribs protested. "Yeah, the whole wounded hero."

"Hero?" Reaves grinned. "A truck fell on you."

"She won't know that." Dean yawned.

Caleb grinned at the teen, then gestured to his father to come closer to the door out of Dean's ear shot. "That comment didn't sit well with him."

Mackland smiled at his son. He understood Caleb's dedication to the Winchester brothers. Ames wished he could do more for them too. "I'll try, Son. I'll try."

Caleb left to catch up to Jim and head back to the farm house. He hoped John had not given the keys to the pastor.

John returned with two cups of coffee from the vending machine. Mackland was seated watching over his patient, and accepted the cup. John pulled another chair over.

Dean was resting again. Mac hoped he was dreaming of Becca Hensen, baseball and helping his father fix the truck instead of the nightmare of being forgotten and abandoned.

Mac glanced at John, gesturing to Dean. "He's a good boy."

John exhaled through pursed lips and sat straighter in his chair. "Do I want to know where this is going?" He rubbed a hand down his face. "Sounds like 'despite what you've done, he's a good kid.'"

They all felt a little guilty for having not noticed immediately Dean was missing. "He should know he's important, special."

"I know you think you'd do a better job raising him, both of them." John crossed his arms.

"I didn't say that." Mac replied, seeing his friend getting defensive. When the boys were younger, the doctor had numerous one-sided conversations about how John was raising the boys. But, as time went on he intruded less, noticing the conversations made things worse for the brothers. "He has dreams John, they should be encouraged."

"Dreams?" John glanced at his teenage son.

"Baseball, college -" Ames went down the list Caleb had shared with him.

"Dean has responsibilities at home."

The doctor took a sip of the bitter brew. He hated vending machine coffee. "Hunting, taking care of you and Sam-those shouldn't be the responsibilities of a boy."

"It's what he signed up for." John stated his justification.

And Mackland was disappointed in his friend. He related everything to the military. "He wasn't drafted into the army, John."

"He didn't ask to be the next Guardian either…"

Ames sighed, and backed away from the conversation. "Touche."

"Thanks for what you did tonight, but I don't want another parenting lecture." John bent down and picked up the coffee he had placed under his chair.

The next day, after lunch, Caleb was called to pick up the trio at the hospital. Dean was being released, and could spend time recuperating at Jim's house under Mac's care. John carried the sleeping teen in, and brought him upstairs to his bedroom.

Jim was going to be busy the remaining part of the week with his parishioners due to the upcoming Easter holiday. This left Mac and Sam to entertain the cranky bed ridden teenager.

"He needs to sleep right now, but when he wakes up you can read to him." Mackland stated to Sam who was playing Monopoly with Caleb.

Reaves snorted. "Oh, that should keep him entertained for a good twenty minutes."

Ames narrowed his eyes at his son's taunting. "You can do better?"

Caleb was smug, and looked at John. "I'm supposed to help you track down that cult leader…"

John smiled back. "You know Mac when was the last time you were in the field? Maybe you need some recertification…"

Mackland pretended to ponder the question. "You may be right."

Caleb's mouth dropped open. He had been completely set up.

John winked. "Sorry, Junior, pulling rank."

"Great," he said to Sam who was counting his pile of money.

"Can we play UNO next?" The ten-year-old asked.

The next three days left Caleb with a sore Dean and an energy-filled Sam. He was thankful Dean slept most of the time, getting up to eat and drink. The third day brought more restlessness and so Caleb constructed a sheet fort, which seemed to keep the youngest Winchester more occupied than the oldest Winchester brother.

Reaves noticed the joking nature between John and Mac. They were having too much fun over such a small case.

That night Dean was given some pain medication to help him sleep. His encased arm was strapped to his side to limit his movement. His back was sore, his cuts were itchy and his arm and ribs throbbed, but he felt less hazy and lethargic.

Sam was beside him, sleeping with a light snoring.

He heard the laughing downstairs, then the footsteps nearing his room. He kept his eyes wide open, curious to see who was checking on him. Caleb opened the door.

"Hey, I thought you would be out by now." Reaves stepped into the room.

"Not yet. What's going on?" Dean fidgeted trying to get comfortable.

Caleb helped lift the teen up, then adjusted the pillows underneath him. "Johnny and Mac are acting like football players reliving the winning touchdown." Caleb began to mimic the older hunter's voices.

"Shouldn't be giving you any more trouble, Jim. Thanks to Mackland." Caleb lowered his voice, a pale imitation of John's.

Reaves then puffed up and mimicked his father. "I don't know John. That threat about draining his blood and stringing him up. . ."

"Well you were the one who described how exactly one drains blood.. . .Mentioning the blade you would use-priceless." Caleb practically memorized the moronic, infantile conversation and used John's diction.

"Jealous, Damien?" Dean scoffed, keeping his voice low as to not wake up a sleeping Sam.

Reaves rolled his eyes. "Hell, no, I love playing babysitter."

"You babysit Sammy, you hang out with me."

"Thanks for setting me straight, Deuce." Caleb sat on the edge of the bed. He gestured to the younger Winchester. "Did you slip those drugs to Sam?"

Dean shook his head.

"So what gives?" Caleb didn't want to search Dean's mind for what was bothering the teen.

Dean exhaled sharply, looked at Caleb, then glanced away. "You fucking forgot about me?"

The psychic was hoping the teenager had forgotten his brother's comment. Instead he had stewed for days. "Dean, we didn't forget about you." They would have found him an hour earlier had they noticed immediately. But, Caleb didn't want to bring up semantics. This was a tender topic involving a lot more than a bruised ego. "I trust you to keep out of trouble. I thought you were out with Pastor Jim."

"Well, I wasn't." Dean pouted, frustrated his arm was immobile. He had loss a sense of worth upon learning he hadn't been missed. Then there was also the fear of being left alone. "I get it Caleb. I'm an ensign. I think Atticus has a higher rank than me."

And Caleb felt he was doing the cleanup work, putting Dean back together. "Dude, we got the three generals downstairs. I'm a Colonel, and that makes you like a Major."

"What?" Dean narrowed his eyes. He had taken a keen interest in the military because of his father. "That's fucked man."

"Yeah, I never liked playing army." Reaves commented. He had come into Mac's life at age thirteen and the doctor had an aversion to toy soldiers. He cleared his throat, and made sure Dean was looking at him. "But I know we couldn't do any of this without you, Deuce." He nodded at the teen. "Never forget that."

Dean looked away, and thoughtfully gazed at his brother. "Yeah."

Caleb saw the glance to Sam. It was true; the youngest Winchester benefited the most from Dean. The teen yawned, unable to overcome the drugs in his system. "Try to get some sleep. Think about baseball."

"Yeah, alright." Dean closed his eyes.

"I'll stay here until you fall asleep." Caleb remained sitting on the bed. He waited until Dean's breathing evened out into a slumber, and sent him dreams of baseball and Becca Hensen. Everyone needed their dreams.


End file.
